Friday, December 7, 2012

It's been less than a month since I've moved from Queens's hemorrhoid (or "Brooklyn" for all you out-of-towners), but as far as bicycle cycling goes I'm already getting sperled for cherce. Sure, it's pretty easy to take a decent Fred ride (apart from the shame) from where I live now, and it's also pretty easy to take a decent mountain bicycle ride (apart from my propensity to fall down), but what if I want something that sort of splits the difference? Like riding a bike with those curvy-type handling bars they use in the Tour de France, but on the dirt instead of on the ass-fault? Well, it turns out that's pretty easy too.

First I roll out of my heated bike garage and right onto this unpaved trail:

By the way, if you're wondering what a real cockpit looks like, here's your answer:

I'll change that bar tape exactly when I run out of electrical tape with which to repair it. Also note that this bicycle is equipped with a fully automatic transmission. (At least I assume it's an automatic transmission because it changes gear whenever I get out of the saddle, though that could just be my knee hitting the shifter.)

Anyway, after a short while that trail turns into this:

And then I cut over to this:

And after some abandoned mattresses and a little broken glass things improve and start to look like this:

And then they look like this:

And then they look like this:

Best of all, it's pretty hard to get lost because there's this river thing right there that lets you know when you've gone off the trail by drowning you to death, assuming you don't get hit by a train first. Oh, I also took a picture of my bike next to the trail because I'm a huge dorkus:

(What kind of dorkus takes a picture of his stupid bike and puts it on the Internet?)

If I could only have one bike it would be this slightly-too-small-for-me Surly with its handy S&S couplers, generous tire clearance, and impressive versatility. However, I can have more than one bike, which is why I have three-quarters of a fuckload of them in my heated bike garage. So there. USA, baby!

Oh, I know what your'e saying. You're saying, "You misplaced that last apostrophe!" You're also saying, "Big deal! The riding's like a million times more 'epic' where I live." Yeah, but where I live we actually have a real city, too. It's not like Portland, which is just Forest Park with a slightly trendier Albany attached. See, here I get to enjoy mediocre-plus riding in my backyard and all the inconvenience and expense of the largest city in Canada's Taiwanese Brooks knockoff saddle. I could ride all day and then hop on the subway and enjoy some of the greatest restaurants and cultural institutions in the entire world, if only I could afford them.

I'm not going to say I'd never use hydraulic disc brakes on a bicycle with those curved-type handling bars like they use in the Tour de France. Sure, I couldn't care less about this kind of stuff, but at the same time chances are that one day in the distant future I'll need new stuff, and if that's the stuff they're making and it's been refined over many years then that's probably what I'd end up with. However, I am going to say there's no freaking way I'd get near the stuff when the shifters still look like the Coneheads:

So what even makes a cassette cyclocross-specific? Well, apparently it's the "large cutouts on the aluminum backplate," which I guess are supposed to ooze mud or something. Big freaking deal. You know what you're supposed to do when your bike won't shift during a cyclocross race? Start running, you lazy slob! There was a time when the whole point of cyclocross was that it was hard and inconvenient, and you just used the old crap from your road bike, and you had to be a resourceful rider to get yourself through a difficult situation. And I'm not trying to pretend I'm some old-timer who was racing cyclocross decades ago, because I'm not--the time I'm talking about was only like two years ago. You know, back when you couldn't really buy a crabon cyclocross bike, and if you said you wanted one people would think you were an idiot. Since then though, there seems to have been some sort of marketing-driven douche-plosion, which I can only attribute to the synergistic effect that occurs when Freds and fixsters descend on something at the exact same time.

And now, I'm pleased to present you with a quiz. As always, study the item, think, and click on your answer. If you're right you'll know, and if you're wrong you'll see Mormons On Bicycles.

That reminds me. I rode with some guys Tuesday and the LAST time we rode before that I kick their asses on my old Raleigh in a CX(they were $2000 crabon) and Tuesday when we got done and were bullshitting they talked about how I kicked their asses and I was like, "Ohhhhhhhhhhh stop it you".

And three quarters of a fuckload of us here in the commenteratti are exactly the kinds of dorkuses who take photos of our ridiculous numbers of bikes and post them on the intertubes in a douche-plosion of crabon saturated pixel...

Mr. Bike Snob, not too long ago I was following a "Fred" who was riding in the street. Problem was that this street has a humongous bike lane, a protected side walk (in Idaho it is legal to ride on sidewalks in some cases) and a separate bike path that follows the river. I have it from a good source that in cycling heaven Holland, if a bike lane or path is available, a cyclist must leave the street and use it. A law such as this could go a long way to reducing motorist/bicyclist misunderstandings.

I suck at riding, but I wrap bar tape pretty well. In this case I wrapped it perfectly, then proceeded to pack and unpack the bike many times in its travel case, very hastily and with no padding. So the spokes chew into the bar tape, then I cover it with electrical tape, repeat ad nauseam, etc. and so forth.

I saw John Howard riding one of these (http://www.classicrendezvous.com/USA/Graftek.htm) fine crabon machine in a 'cross race back in the early '80s. I understand they worked great until the super-glue (really) they were held together with began to fail.

Mr. Bike Snob, I just finished reading your first book. Great statement in epilog "Cyclings not for everyone, but at the same time there are a lot of people who don't realize that cycling is for them." I think they realize it, the memories are just repressed. Thanks for a great book. Right on, write on, ride on!

Nice bar tape Snob. But that's okay, some company will step up to the plate, take pity on you and send you free bar tape for Hanukkah as a cost effective form of advertising to your eight readers. Personally, it's inspired me to grab a roll of electrical tape when I get home - I'm good thru 2013 now. Woo-hoo! (not the 46mph kind)

Oh, and the riding here IS a million times more epic: North Shore Baby! Mind you, I'm too much of a "woosie" to ride it, but it's there if I wanted to.

Where I live, the only thing they like stealing more than bikes is copper. Might make for good entertainment, watching the copper thief kick the snot out of the bike thief for the $150 scrap value on a $6k bike.

years ago at a bike festival, while 'lounging' in a large hot tub with a dozen friends, I was stunned to realize seven of them were always armed while riding. Scared the shit out of me. They (almost) all seemed sane.

Thanks for mentioning Portland like, every day Snob. Things were starting to get a little flaccid out here in Seattle's clitted shoes without regular oral service from the New York Times. But you're totally taking up the slack!

You know what I'd pay for? A frigging cassette that didn't wear out every two chains. Another thing, I'd pay money for a chain that didn't wear out every two months. What complete crap. Stupid stupid stupid frigging pure BS crap.

old croton acquaduct trail is correct, looks like he was on the south end which starts near van cordtland park in the bronx. I still think he moved to inwood though. i thought i had a wildcat sighting on the 1 train this week which would mean inwood or could be near van cortland park.

That faux rural track looks like a degenerate haven. Lolling along, communing with nature whilst those debased by the delusions of living in a human ant colony flagellate their foreparts. What a wonderful human experiment; stuff millions into constriction and listen to them extol their sophistication.

Are we then surprised that a sniffing knob end demonstrates his readiness for war? Guess what free access to gun creates?

As dread steadily wins the battle for hearts and minds, tribes drift off into the idiocy of Genghis Khan gloves and fixed gears, retro fashion and boy beards, neck knives and hero fears. Dopey cunts.

The river is the Blue Nile and he is in Sudan. The sun is directly overhead, and what appears to be his shadow are in actuality some of the many Snob-shaped smudges and holes for which that turbulent land is so renowned.

So he should definitely go with the Brompton for the dhow-trip into Khartoum; Gordon had a Strida and look what happened to him.

Snob. The portrait of your noble steed is a psychosexual cry for help. Can't you see that you are sexually attracted to the machine? The penis effigy stem shot was also very, very, disturbing on a very sick level of existence! I would strongly advise that you not entertain thoughts of intervelo sexual satisfaction. I'll write you a prescription for Zombitol 500mg take three every two hours.

I can at least validate myself when I get into a debate with some Tennessee Redneck(tm) that wants to lose some weight and inevitably hits me up for advice and starts out with "I WILL JUST GET ME A WAL-MART BIKE, I DON'T NEED ANY OF THAT EXPENSIVE FANCY STUFF YOUR TALKIN' 'BOUT."

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About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!